


Locked Down and Loaded - an occasional series

by nimrod262



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alpha Team, Big Feet, Bubbles - Freeform, Chris vs the press, Chris’ backflip, Combat Armour, Coronavirus, Deuce of Hearts, Fats Waller, Flatulence, General Zaitsev OC, Heroism, Hi-Yo Silver, Homophobia, M/M, NAB - Freeform, Nivanfield, Piers vs his memories, Pride Rainbow, Revenge, Scars, Sheva Alomar - Freeform, Shorts, Slice of Life, Stay Safe Rainbow, Surface Tension, Teamwork, The Lone Ranger - Freeform, The Who - Freeform, Twerking, Underpants, WHO World Health Organisation, Walking boots, Wide feet, blisters, carpentry, dancing video, hip-hop, lockdown - Freeform, lockdown shopping, lullaby, nivanfield banter, occasional series, safety bubbles, second childhood, skin allergy, social distancing, stay safe, stormtroopers - Freeform, take care, the new normality, vivid lockdown dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24000586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimrod262/pseuds/nimrod262
Summary: Sometimes, when you’ve lived with someone for a long time, you take things for granted, you fail to notice the small details. Sometimes it’s important, sometimes it’s just … well, you know.
Relationships: Piers Nivans/Chris Redfield
Kudos: 17





	1. It’s all pants!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, when you’ve lived with someone for a long time, you take things for granted, you fail to notice the small details. Sometimes it’s important, sometimes it’s just … well, you know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t going to write about the virus, then I thought WTH, it’s part of daily life now. But this series seeks the humour in life under lockdown for Chris and Piers. Stay safe. nimrod

It was the second week of lockdown …

Piers was still in their bed, trying to retain the warmth that Chris had left behind when he’d gone to shower.

Chris ‘Radiator’ walked back into the room. Piers eyed him keenly. It was a revelation.

“Uh, Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“Your underpants.”

“What about them? They’re clean on.” Chris twisted and looked down over his shoulder just to make sure.

“I mean they’re inside out.”

“Yeah, that’s how I like 'em.”

“Since when?

"Since I started wearing them.”

Piers mouthed Chris’ words. “Um, when was that?”

“When we became an item. I thought, ya’ know, you being Californian and all prissy and stuff, I’d better start wearing them.” Chris smiled, like he’d done a good thing.

“So, all the time before, you were …”

“Yeah, commando.” Chris grinned.

“In all those pictures I got from Claire … ?”

“Yup, commando.” Chris scratched the back of his neck, this was beginning to get a little embarrassing.

“Oh boy! That puts a whole new slant on things.”

“Ha! Good one Ace.”

Piers rolled his eyes. “Ok, so tell me why are they inside out?”

“Um, it’s kinda’ personal.” Chris was blushing now.

“I’m your partner! How 'personal’ can it get?”

“Well, truth is, I’m a bit sensitive down there …”

“Heh, heh!”

“… What? No! I mean my skin is sensitive.”

“Your skin is sensitive? The man who punches boulders, zombies, BOWs and anything else that gets in his way?”

“I mean sensitive to nylon and elastic. Ya’ know, like an allergy. It’s the thread they use in the seams and waistband. Why do you think Superman wears his underpants over his tights? He has sensitive skin.”

“The strongest man in the universe has sensitive skin? Wait! He’s not even real!”

“What about Batman?”

“No!”

“Damn! John Cena?”

“The jury’s still out.”

“Well, I was only trying to give you a f'rinstance. Underpants are so much smoother on the outside than the inside, so I wear them outside in.”

“Outside in … ?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’d rather the boys hung free …”

“The boys?”

“Yeah, er, that’s what I call 'em. Kinda like a nickname.”

“So, let me get this straight. When we’re briefing Alpha, and you keep talking about 'your boys’, what _exactly_ do you mean?”

“I mean _our_ boys, not _your_ boys. Now, if we’ve finished talking pants, I have things to do.” Chris turned to leave,

“Now where are you going?”

“Well, if you must know, I’m gonna’ check on the boys. See how they’re doing.”

“Ours or yours? Heh, heh, heh.”

Chris stumped out of the bedroom. “Jeez, how much longer have we got of this … ?”


	2. My G,Generation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris’ mind moves in mysterious ways sometimes. Or is it a case of lockdown fever? The question is, how do you make sweet music within social distancing? Chris uses his body as a rule, whilst Piers discovers his partner’s rocky past, as they both try and figure things out. (This was actually written before a certain President decided to stop funding the W.H.O - I leave you to draw your own conclusions on that.)

Piers sighed, he was already getting bored and it wasn’t even ten a.m. yet. He was sat re-reading the nine days old newspaper, and now wishing he hadn’t completed the crossword and Sudoku puzzles the week before. It would have given him something else to do at that precise moment. But even a lockdown can provide welcome surprises, and diversion was soon at hand, or rather at foot, when Chris walked quietly into the room. Quietly because he was barefooted. Diverting because he promptly laid down on the floor. As Piers peered over the top of the paper, open mouthed, Chris carefully positioned himself so his heels touched the toecaps of his partner’s trainers, and his large frame stretched out straight towards the hearth. He looked up at Piers and grinned, as if in triumph.

“So, what do you think Ace?”

“I find myself unusually lost for words …” said a bemused Piers.

“Ha!”

“Um, what exactly are you doing down there?” Piers was no longer bored. Now he was intrigued.

“I’m glad you asked. I’m measuring the prescribed social distance. Six foot, give or take. It says on my ID I’m six foot one, or two. I forget which, it kinda’ varies.”

“Huh?”

“It depends if I’m bulked up or not I suppose.”

“You’re always bulked up. It’s one of the things I like about you.” Piers smirked. “And it’s two meters by the way.”

“What is?”

“The safe social distance. That’s about six foot six in ‘Chrisworld’. As prescribed by the WHO.”

“Ahh, they were a great rock band. I grew up listening to them. I used to play all Pete Townshend’s licks. Wow, wow, wow! Ouch!” Chris tried playing air guitar, but found it wasn’t easy, flat on his back, with a coffee table leg in the way.

Piers looked on with undisguised incredulity. “What on earth are you talking about Bear?”

“The Who of course! You know … Talking about m,m,my g,generation.”

“Why are you stuttering? Are you developing a fever? Here, let me go fetch the thermometer …”

“I’m n,not trying to cause a s,s,sensation, just talkin’ 'bout m,m,my generashun. I’m not ill Ace, I’m just singing.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Haw, haw!

"Actually, it’s the W.H.O., the World Health Organization, not the Who.” Relieved Chris was not in any imminent danger, apart from an attack of nostalgia, Piers quickly reverted to sarcasm. “Anyway, they weren’t your generation. They’re _even_ older.”

“I was a late developer!”

“And you haven’t finished yet.” Piers muttered to himself.

“Oi! I heard that! You’re not the only one with good hearing in this house you know!”

Piers put a hand to his ear. “Sorry?”

“I said your'e not the … Oh, very funny Ace.”

“Heh, heh. Gotcha’! Um, you gonna’ stay down there all day?”

“But we have to stay apart! It’s in the rules. Expansive personal spacing.” Chris puffed his chest out.

“No we don’t. Not since we live together, in the same house. And we sleep together, in the same bed. Social distancing is for like when we go shopping, with other people, or strangers.”

Chris’ face crumpled up, as if he was about to cry. “Don’t ever be a stranger to me Piers! You promise?” Chris put a shaking hand out.

“Oh Babe, of course I won’t. Here, let me …” Piers reached down in concern.

Chris suddenly withdrew his hand and thumbed his nose. “Ha, ha! Gotcha’ back.”

Hazels flashed. “Hilarious!” Piers sat back, then called out. “Hey, Ruffy! Were are you boy?”

Ruff came bounding in from the kitchen where he’d been guarding the pantry. “Huff?”

“There you are! Look Ruff, Daddy’s got a new rug for you to lie on. It may look like an old bearskin, but it’s _our_ old bearskin.” Piers bent down and patted Chris’ legs.

“Watch it Nivans!”

“Arff!”

“Oww! Hey, go careful with the boys Ruffster! Your paws don’t look where they’re going! Argh! Get off me you great furry lump.”

“Wuff!”

“Heh, heh. He just wants to play.”

“Mmm. He’s not the only one. Do you wanna’ play?”

“How do you plan on doing that from six foot one, or two, inches away?”

“Guess I’ll just have to bulk up a bit more for you.”

“Is there no end to your talents Bear?”

Chris scratched his chin in thought. An old Who song title suddenly came to mind. “I can see for miles!”

“Er, Who are you?”

“Um, I’m a boy!”

“Heh, heh. Won’t get fooled again!”

Chris patted the floor next to him. “Wanna’ play Pinball Wizard?”

Piers got up, and laid down next to Chris, soaking up the warmth, enfolded in his arms. He’d already thought of another Who song title. It seemed particularly appropriate.

“See me, feel me?”

“Grrrr!”

“Wooof!”

“Arr-Who!


	3. Who was that masked man?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in lockdown, it’s shopping time again, time to stock up the cupboards in the Deuce of Hearts. Chris is concerned for Piers’ safety. But that doesn’t mean he can't have a little fun.

At the _Deuce of Hearts_ it’s week three of the lockdown.

Piers came in from the kitchen. “We need to do a shop Babe. Fresh food’s running low, and Ruff needs a couple more sacks of dog chow.”

“I’ll go Ace.”

“You did the last one. I thought we’d agreed to share the runs.”

“I, I changed my mind.”

“Oh, you didn’t say. Any particular reason?”

“Um, no. Why, should there be?” Chris replied, somewhat defensively.

“Christopher?” a raised latte eyebrow.

“What? I know that look! I changed my mind, that’s all. I did the last one, so I know where to go and what to do. You know what I always say. If it ain’t broken, don’t fix it. Er, ha!”

“I know _what_ you say Bear. It’s just trying to work out what you actually mean when you say it. That was a very guilty sounding _Ha!_ just then.”

Chris scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I don’t know what you’re on about Ace, really. Look, I’ve said I’ll do it, so I’ll do it, end of.” Chris puffed his chest out to make the point.

“You don’t want me to go, do you?”

“Whatever gives you that idea! I’m just taking my share of the chores, that’s all.”

“My snipey senses tell me different.”

“Damn! They would! You know Piers, sometimes they’re a curse as well as a blessing.”

“So? Come on, out with it Bear.”

“Alright! The truth is I don’t want you to go. I hate the thought of it. I don’t want to risk losing you again Piers. To another virus. I couldn’t bear it.”

“So, it’s Ok if I lose you then?”

“At least I’d know you were safe before I went.”

“Oh Babe. We can’t wrap each other up in cotton wool. Not for now, not for ever.”

“We’ve done all right so far. Marhawa, China, Edonia, twice now.”

“What virus is gonna take me on? I’ve got my own resident protection.”

“No, I remember exactly what Dr. Kaison said. He said the C-virus had taken over the function of your immune system, and so it hadn’t produced the expected anti-bodies. That’s why your blood was no use in finding an anti-C vaccine, whereas Muller’s was. He also said he didn’t know how effective it would be against something new.”

“You remembered all that?”

“I remember everything when it concerns you.”

“It repaired my leg wound.”

“That was different and you know it.”

“Perhaps Dr K could do some modeling?”

“Perhaps. But A, it would take time, and B, I imagine he’s got his hands full right now. Speak to him to him if you want. But until we know something definite, you’re staying here. Capiche?”

Alright, alright, I give in. I’ll take Ruffy for a walk instead. Don’t forget your mask, and use it properly!

“I know, you gotta wear them in the store.”

“Yes. But you don’t have to go around saying ‘Stick 'em up! all the time. Those people were frightened last week.”

“Er, how’d you get to know about that?”

“You were seen, and heard. I gotta call from store security. They said you were free to shop elsewhere.”

“It was just a bit of fun.”

“People are nervous, they don’t want fun, they want safe.”

“They don’t know what fun is.”

“Chris, you may be missing the adrenalin rush from our line of work, but those people were normal. Choosing which breakfast cereal to buy is about as excited as they wanna get.”

“Oh!”

“And that’s another thing.”

“Now what?”

“Buy the right produce this time. Tomatoes for example. Which ones?”

“Er, the red ones. The green ones aren’t ripe.”

“Cherry or plum?”

“Ha! Trick question, they’re fruits.”

“So are tomatoes. On the vine Bear, we buy tomatoes on the vine.”

“That’s grapes Ace. See, you can’t fool me.”

“Argh! Let’s try apples then.”

“Ok. I like this game.”

“Not all apples are red and shiny …”

“No, that’s tomatoes …”

“No! It means I like the green ones, Granny Smiths. You’ve seen them here before.”

“Oh yeah, hard, sour. I thought you used them for cooking.”

“I prefer them that way. Firm and tart.”

“Just like you then! I prefer those shiny red ones. They’re delicious!”

Piers sighed. “Yes, they probably are. Ok, what sort of dog food does Ruffy eat?

"Er, brown, little brown squares …”

…

“Um, round squares? Ah, I know, they gotta picture on the front of the sack!”

“What of?”

“A dog!”

What kind of dog?

“A hungry dog. He’s wagging his tail.”

“Anything else?”

“Um, oh yeah, he’s holding his chow bowl in his mouth.”

“It’s a Shepherd. He looks a lot like Ruff actually.”

“I knew he looked familiar!”

“You’re not taking this seriously, are you?”

“Not very. The only thing I’m serious about is not putting you at risk.”

“Oh Chris! What am I gonna do with you?”

“Your'e gonna write me a really detailed shopping list, and I’m gonna drive into town and get everything exactly as on the list. No extras, no omissions. If they don’t have what you want, I’ll ask someone for the nearest equivalent, from a safe distance.”

“No hold ups?”

“No, Scouts honor.” Chris gave the three-fingered salute.

“Were you ever in the Scouts?”

“Yes, I was … for a little while.”

“Little?”

“Um, I got kicked out for making holes in my neckerchief.”

“You what!”

“I kept using it as a mask, playing the Lone Ranger with Claire, she was Tonto and I was …”

“The horse?”

“Ha, ha! No, the Lone Ranger of course! Now, are you done with that list? Good. I’ll see you later then.”

“Take care out there Babe. Don’t forget, wear gloves, keep your distance, and no hold-ups.”

“I will Ace." Chris got into his old truck and gunned the motor. "Hi-Yo Silver! Away!”

Piers smiled and waived goodbye from the porch, Ruff by his side. “Look Ruffy, there he goes, the Lone Redfield. Forty seven, going on eight … and he’s still wearing a mask!”


	4. Together in Eclectic Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During lockdown, Chris has a vivid dream, or maybe it’s a nightmare. Whatever the cause, Piers is on hand to burst the bubble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been having my own vivid ‘lockdown’ dreams recently, so this short is a slice of life experience. The title is a play on words of an old 80’s pop song, ’Together in Electric Dreams’ from the '84 film, Electric Dreams.

Piers felt the movement straight away, the tremors running through Chris’ body, the twitching of his muscles. He reached out carefully and switched on his bedside lamp, then turned to look at his sleeping partner. Chris’ eyelids flickered rapidly in REM sleep. He was having a dream, or, worse, a nightmare. But Piers had learnt it was best not to wake his partner, rather let the episode play out. It went against all his protective instincts, but Major Simms had said, whenever possible, it was best to let Chris’ subconscious sort things out itself. Much better to be there as a reassuring and calming influence on awakening. So Piers bit his lip, cradled Chris’ head in his arms, and watched, and waited.

“Whoa! Wha …!” Chris’ eyes opened wide in alarm.

“Hush Babe, It’s Ok, I got you.”

“Where … P, Piers, is that you?”

“I’m here. You were having a dream, that’s all. Everything’s fine.”

“Gah! It was so real.”

“That’s how they seem.”

“No, _really_ real this time. I mean colors, smells, touch. The whole nine yards. So lifelike, until the weird bits.”

It’s alright now. Was, was it bad?“

"What? No, not specially. Just so vivid, you know? Like I’d never been asleep.”

“Really? More so than usually?” If this was a new phenomena with Chris, Piers wanted to know all about it.

“Oh yeah. It’s not the first one either. I’ve had several like it these last couple of weeks.”

Piers sat up in the bed. Now he was concerned. “You have? You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you. I know how you get. You’ve got enough on your mind at the moment. This lockdown thing, directing the NAB from home …”

“And you’re just as important! And just as busy. Getting this ‘protective bubble’ idea of the ground. I know how you like to be 'hands on’ with the SOUs. It must be frustrating organizing it over video links.”

“It is. People don’t seem quite so intimidated by me over a video link.”

“Perhaps distance lends enchantment?”

“Harumph! Perhaps I’m losing my touch?”

“You have to do it with your words, stress and emphasis, not your body.”

“Oh! Like you you mean? Using irony and sarcasm.”

“Er, not quite. Getting back to your dream. You wanna talk it through?”

“Well, there was you, me and the Ruffster. We were in the woods here, out walking. Next thing is, we’re being chased by these huge bubbles.”

“What, like the one in the Prisoner? Rover?”

“No, not white, clear, all shiny and rainbow sparkly. Incandescent, like a soap bubble, but bigger.”

Piers resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Then what happened?”

“I got you and Ruff to a safe place, where they couldn’t get in. Then I went out and faced them.”

“Just you?”

And my Goliath knife. When they burst, I could feel the water spray over me, little drops on my face and arms. And then there were too many and I got sucked into one and couldn’t get out. It wouldn’t pop, the skin was elastic, it just went with the knife, like rubber. And then it took me away, and I could see you and Ruff watching me go. That bit was scary. Gah! So, that’s when I woke myself up.“

"Oh Babe! Well, I can see where a lot of it comes from.”

“Yeah, so can I”

“Have the other dreams been as bad?”

“Not all of them, but all as lifelike. And more than I usually have these days.”

“Ok. Let’s talk with Eric Simms first. Do you mind?”

“Won’t he be busy? He must have a lot on his plate. We’re trying to get at least two sets of SOUs and clean-up teams tested, plus air and ground-crews. Then we gotta maintain their protective bubble.”

“And none of that will happen if you’re not Ok. It’s your plan. It won’t take long. Please?”

“Ok, you’re the Boss.”

Over breakfast, Piers established the connection. “Hi Eric. You gotta moment?”

“Only for you Mr Director. For any one else, no! I’m sorry, I’m missing my morning donut, it makes me grumpy.”

“Ok, understood. We have a similar situation. Listen, I won’t take up too much of your valuable time. It’s about Chris. He’s been having a lot of very strange dreams since lockdown. He’s here with me now.”

“Ah! Were they particularly vivid? I mean, exercising all the usual senses?”

Chris peered over Piers’ shoulder. “They sure were Eric.”

“Hmm, and how about your sleep patterns? Have you been sleeping in late for instance? Or sleeping longer?”

“Um, I suppose so. I mean we’re still open for business, office hours. But we’re not running or hitting the gym like we did, so yeah, I guess I’m sleeping in a bit more.”

“As I thought! There’s a growing body of medical opinion which believes these long and vivid dreams are due to the anxiety and stress of the current situation. It’s the brain’s way of coping with the quarantine. You’re not getting out and about, being stimulated during the day, like you were before. So your subconscious is compensating, giving your brain the stimuli it’s missing during the day at night, in order to function normally. Not everyone’s susceptible. You Mr Director, for example, with your heightened senses, get sufficient stimuli without even trying. Others, like you Director Ops, have a more hands-on approach. You’re missing the contacts and changes of scene that you would usually experience in the daytime. Hence these vivid dreams at night. Sleeping longer simply gives you more opportunity to dream and remember them.”

Chris put a large hand over the camera port. “Ask him about the bubbles Piers.”

I think we know where they come from Babe.“

"Oh, yeah … um, where?”

Piers moved the hand away. “So what’s the treatment Eric?”

“Simple. Keep to your previous regular sleeping hours. And get more stimulation during the day.”

“Ha! Hear that Ace, you gotta stimulate me more!”

“Chris, really!”

“Um, that’s not quite what I meant D.Ops. For example, if one of you has to go out, shopping, visit the drug store, whatever, you should do it, rather than take turns. Don’t sleep in. Get up and go for a run. In the woods or down by the river, somewhere interesting, with plenty of visual potential.”

“I thought we had to stay in?”

“Who are you going to meet?”

“An MP patrol?”

“Well, providing you maintain correct social distancing, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes. If it doesn’t stop, let me know, but I think with a bit of common sense and adapting your routine, you’ll be fine.”

“Common sense!” Chris bridled.

“Er, thanks Eric.” said Piers, hastily. “Sorry to have troubled you. Perhaps you could put something up on the NAB intranet about this, if it’s a going to be a common experience. Just to allay peoples fears?”

“Capital idea! Toodle pip then Mr Director, you too Redfield.” The screen went blank.

“What did he mean, common sense?”

“I’m sure he meant you had plenty of it.”

“You do?”

“Yes, of course. You’re a very commonsensical person.”

“Then why are you smirking?”

“Am I? Probably cos I’m looking forward to a newly stimulated Director of Operations.”

“Really? Now?”

“Er, no. Now you’re going for a run, whilst I clear up the breakfast things.”

“I am?”

“Yes. Oh, and watch out for bubbles! Take something sharp to prick them with.

"How bout I take your tongue?”

“Ouch! See, you’re getting better already!”

“Ha!”


	5. Legs, feet, knees and wheels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piers is good with his head, he likes to think things through. Chris is good with his hands, he prefers to act. But under lockdown conditions, it’s all about teamwork, about keeping the wheels at the Deuce of Hearts turning smoothly.

“It’s too small Bear!”

“We’ve shared an office before Ace!”

“That was a bigger office.”

“We can move all the stuff around.”

“We need ‘all the stuff’, especially the command console. And we can’t rearrange it now. There’s fiber optics, secure landlines, cooling, all plumbed in. It’s where it is.”

“We could get the tech team in.”

“That’s just what we’re not meant to do. We’re in isolation, remember? It’s Ok. I’ll make my office in the gun room. All I need is a swivel chair.”

“We’ve only got the one.”

“Oh! Yeah, right. Never mind. I’ll manage somehow.”

“You can have mine.”

“No, you need to switch between the console and your desk, especially if there’s an operation running. I just need a desk and somewhere quiet to think.”

“You saying I’m noisy?”

“No, I didn’t say that!”

“But you thought it.”

“Chris … !”

“Ha! You know me, I have to talk things through all the time.”

“Yes, but with yourself?”

“I’m also a good listener!”

“Well listen then! I’m sorry Babe, I just need a quiet place. A lot of my job is just thinking.”

“Oh! I thought you just didn’t do much, as Director.”

“Really?” Latte eyebrows raised and hazel eyes flashed in warning.

“Well, you always make it look so easy! Things just seems to fall into place for you.”

“That’s because I think everything through, before I take action. You should try it sometime.”

“Haw, haw!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap Babe. I’m getting stressed. I don’t like working away from the base.”

“Neither do I Ace, but rules are rules. Besides, you made them … Ah! Got it!”

“You have? I hope it’s not catching. Er, what is it you’ve got?”

“You’ll see. I’m thinking it through at this very moment.”

“Ok … um, now what are you doing?”

“Now, I’m taking action!”

“With my chair?”

“You can use mine in the meantime. See you later Ace.”

“Ohh-kay … !”

Piers’ gunroom in the _Deuce of Hearts_ was converted from what used to be a nursery room. It only had a small window, and so was always lit, even during the day. About an hour after Chris had gone, the lights started to flicker. Piers looked up, then noticed his PC screen was flickering too.

“I smell Bear!” he muttered darkly to himself as he went downstairs in search of his partner.

“Babe? Chris? Where are you?”

…

“Where is he? Have you seen No.2 Dad Ruffy?”

“Arff, huff.” Ruff scratched at the door leading into the garage.

He’s in there?

“Arr-whoo!”

“Hello? Chris? Are you in here?” Piers opened the door. He was immediately met by the overpowering smell of sulphur and the noise of the buzz saw. “GAH! CHRIS? WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?”

The noise suddenly stopped. “You can’t come in Piers!”

“What?”

“I’m still thinking things through.”

“The lights are flickering upstairs. Something’s up with the power.”

“Oh, sorry, I’ve been welding.”

“Welding? You took my chair, not my gun-rack!”

“It’s alright, I’ve finished now.”

“Well, that explains the smell. Was that the buzz saw I just heard?”

“Yeah, um, there’s been a slight change of plan.”

“Already? What are you doing? And where’s my chair?”

“I need peace and quiet Piers, to think. You know what it’s like.”

“Quiet! They can hear you in Williamsport! Alright, alright. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

“Ok, you just go off and think. Oh, before you do, what’s your inside leg?”

“Excuse me!”

“Your inside leg measurement. It’s a simple enough question. Shouldn’t take too much thought.”

“Very funny. Er, about 79 cm. Why?”

“Nothing. What’s that in inches?”

“Um, 31.”

“Ok, thanks Ace. Byee.”

“Er, yeah, goodbye Chris.”

“Woof?”

“No, Ruffy. I’ve no idea either what he’s doing either! I’m not even sure No.2 Dad knows himself.”

“Huff!”

****************************

“Tah-Dah!” Chris burst into the gun room carrying something under one arm.

Piers looked up in surprise. “That’s my chair!”

“Yes! What do you think?”

“I think where are its legs?”

“I sawed them off, then used them to make the base. From legs to feet in seconds. Ha!”

“Oh!”

“Look, it’s got wheels now. See?”

“Yes, I do. They look suspiciously like skate-board wheels.”

“That’s because they are.”

“But you don’t have a skate-board.”

“No, and neither do you, now.”

“What!”

“You never use it. Anyway, I’ve had to make sacrifices too.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. What’s that metal column bit?”

“Ah, I’m glad you asked. That was my sacrifice. It’s the height adjustable support.”

“The height adjustable support, of course.” Piers mouthed the words quietly.

“Yes. I made it out of bits of my old multi-gym. Now, I’ve assumed your knees are about half way up your legs. Mine are. But I’ve allowed for a couple of inches either way. You put this spigot pin through the relevant hole to set the desired height.”

“Spigot pin?”

“Well, it’s a steel bolt really, but it makes a good spigot too. It’s secured by this little chain, so you don’t lose it. Ha! What do you think?”

“I think you’ve thought about this a lot.”

“I did, just like you said.”

“And then you’ve taken action.”

“Yup. Well, it took me 2 goes. I had to think some more after my first attempt.”

“Heh, heh! And I think that although you don’t know where my knees are, your heart is very definitely in the right place!”

“So, I did good?”

“You did very good Chris.”

“It’s made with love.”

“And so is this. Mwah! Thank you, my clever ol’ bear.”

“Mwah! We’ll get through this lockdown Ace. It’s a just question of teamwork. We’re good at that.”

“Yes, we are. Uh, can you lock the wheels for safety by the way?”

“Damn!”


	6. Alpha, the video

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piers just wants to make an upbeat video for the NAB. Chris wants revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the Stormtroopers Twerkin video, and Justin Timberlake's Can’t stop the feeling videos. My thanks.

Chris leant over Piers’ shoulder as he sat at his screen. “Wotcha doing Ace?”

“Catching up with the other Directors.”

“How are they?”

“Fine, Sheva sends her love.”

“Aww, sweet … and General Zaitsev?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Ha! Why am I not surprised. He doesn’t like gays.”

“He doesn’t like anyone, but we have to work with him Babe.”

“He’s a pain in the ass Ace, so’s his Director Ops. Anyway, forget them. Anything new?”

“No, things are quiet thank God. Everyone’s been making funny videos during quarantine.”

“Who’s everyone?”

"All the BSAA branches, except the NAB it would seem.”

“We’ve been busy, getting the NAB’s cohort together and putting them inside the Army’s safety bubble at Fort AP Hill.”

“I know. You’ve done a great job.”

“To be honest, we couldn’t have done it without your father’s help. We just don’t have the logistics chain compared to the US Army.”

“And he makes sure to take every opportunity to remind me!”

“Nothing comes free in life Piers.”

“But he’s my father!”

“At least you’re talking. He’s better than he used to be, even I can see that.”

“Really?”

“Well, ish. Ha, ha, ha! So, what’s this about videos? I can tell it’s bugging you, you’ve got that look in your eye.”

“Look?”

“Yeah, the get out of my way, I’m on a mission one.”

“What can I say? I had a good teacher. Heh, heh. Listen, they’ve all made videos specially for the lockdown, sorta morale boosters. Sheva’s filmed a traditional hunting song. She’s got a beautiful voice. The European Headquarters have done a double act between General Henshaw and Général Tourville. A parody of Let’s call the whole thing off. I say tomato and you say tomate, I say potato and you say pomme de terre …”

“But it doesn’t even rhyme!”

“I know, that’s why it’s so funny.”

“So where is all this leading to? As if I didn’t know.”

“Well, we have to do something similar … better.”

“I knew it! Why?”

“Because it’s expected of us.”

“What? Making fools of ourselves?”

“Shouldn’t be difficult for you.”

“Oi! I resemble that!”

“Heh, heh! Come on, if not for me, do it for the NAB’s boys and girls. _Your_ boys and girls.”

“Oh, alright. You know I’d do anything for them. What you got in mind?”

“Well, we need a fun, catchy, upbeat song for a start. I don’t want anything gloomy.”

“How about Monty Python’s Lumberjack song? People are always joking about us living in the woods and wearing plaid and fur hats all the time.”

“That’s not all the Lumberjack wore if I remember the lyrics. Wasn’t there also something about dressing up in women’s clothes? Suspenders and a bra?”

“Um …”

“In fact, he turned out to be a transvestite. I’m surprised you would even consider it Babe. It would be like pouring gasoline on the fire as far as General Zaitsev’s concerned.”

“Hmm, perhaps it’s not such a good idea. Rwarr! I hate that guy. What did he come up with?”

“A patriotic song, sung by the Russian Branch male voice choir.”

“Typical! He always has to make it political.”

“Heh, heh. Calm down Bear. There must be something we can do. I’ll have a think. Mmm, can you still do a backflip?”

“Have you already forgotten last night?”

“I meant from standing upright, in uniform! Not naked, from a prone position.”

“It’s harder from on your back.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure the bed can take it sometimes.”

“Of course it will, I made it, remember? With these two hands.”

“So you still can?”

“Ha! Sure, of course I can. It’s just like riding a bike.”

“Excuse me? I’m a bicycle now?”

“Yeah, one with those little outrider wheels. You might wobble a bit, but you never fall over … um, on the, er, on the job.”

“Choose you next words carefully Bearfield.”

“Er, sorry?”

 _“Very_ carefully!”

“Um, _very_ sorry?”

“Hmm, apology accepted. I know! We do it in combats, that’s it!”

“In bed? Ok, wouldn’t be the first time …”

“No, like Stormtroopers.”

“Stormtroopers? Like Star Wars Stormtroopers?”

“Yes. Have a look at this video.”

“Oh, cool. I’ve always had this fantasy. Wearing that armor in …”

“For our video Bear!”

“Oh! Not during … ?”

“No! At least, not for now anyway.”

“Aww, they’re cute. They look so sad when Vader tells them off. Ha! It’s like you in the classroom.”

“Bear!”

“Sorry!”

“What I have in mind is a dance routine like that, featuring old Alpha, With some twerkin perhaps.”

“Some what now?”

“In full protective combat gear. Helmets, pads, neck protectors, the works. Yes, I can see it now …”

“But you and me never wore helmets. Neither did Finny come to think of it.”

“That’s just it. If we do, people won’t know who it is, until the final reveal. Heh, heh, perfect!”

“Um, you’ve planned it all out already haven’t you? In detail.”

“Oh, just the basics. Everyone can film themselves, doing the same set of moves to the music, then we can edit it all together, syncing to the master soundtrack.”

“We?”

“Well, me then. It is my idea.”

“And I want that formally recorded Mr Director. This is all your doing.”

“Director … Oh yeah, in the credits. Directed by Piers Nivans, Director NAB … has a certain ring to it don’t you think?”

“Oh good grief!”

****************************

“Is that Justin Timberland I can hear? Have you found a song?”

“Yes, Can’t stop the feeling. And it’s Timberlake by the way!”

“No, I think you’ll find they make boots and outdoorsy stuff Ace, for Lumberjacks.”

“That’s Timberland!”

“Yeah, Justin, like I just said.”

“Arghh!”

“Why are you Directors always so temperamental?”

“Because our actors are always such a pain in the ass.”

“You want me to backflip or not?”

“I could ask Ben.”

“Ben’s not here. He’s in Virginia, with the cohort.”

“Damn! Finn?”

… !?

“Well, I can’t ask Danny. And I’ve got Carlos and me down for the twerkin …”

“Yeah, what is that?”

“… so that leaves Andy.”

“No! I’m not having him do something I can do myself!”

“Well, there you go. Looks like you’re doing the backflips after all.”

“No, yes, wait! What did you just do?”

“Like stealing candy from a baby!”

****************************

“Are they all in?”

“Yeah, I even got something from Ben.”

“You did? How?”

“His team were having a full kit inspection. It’s just a cameo, but he got some footage of them too.”

“Twerkin?”

“Er, no, just hip-hopping and some robotics. He looks just like Master Chief in those new combat suits.”

“Ha! Ben always did love his gear.”

“Which leaves the two of us to shoot.”

“Me backflipping?”

“Yes.”

“And you twerkin?”

“Yeah, I’ll, um, film that separately.”

“Piers, I looked it up!”

“Er, you did?”

“Yes. And I have to say I’m very disappointed in you.”

“You are?”

“And surprised. I mean, you’re the Director NAB.”

“Oh, well … it’s just …”

“And you were gonna do it without me? I’m your Director Ops, I can’t let that happen. We do things together Piers!”

“Not everything …”

“For this we do! End of! If I don’t get to twerk with you, I don’t backflip, on the video, or in the bedroom. Capiche?”

“When you put it that way.”

“I do! Besides, we have to do it together. I have a plan.”

“I was afraid of that. What is it?”

“You’ll see. By the way, does General Zaitsev have a first name?”

“Um, it’s Yuri. Why?”

“You might be directing, Ace, but I’m writing the script!”

Which is why, when the video was uploaded, written on the butts of the twerkin pair were two words in Cyrillic, one per butt. Иди Юрий! Go Yuri!

It got over a million hits on it’s first day!


	7. “Rock-a-bye Redfield”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even when Chris is asleep, Piers has his six. And Nivanfield can still share tender moments, lockdown, or no lockdown. In the Deuce of Hearts, Piers muses whilst Chris slumbers:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little something for Pride Month.

_The darkness only stays at nighttime. In the morning it will fade away. Daylight is good at arriving at the right time. It’s not always gonna be this grey._ All things must pass - George Harrison.

The early dawn light wakes me, yellow tinted through the bedroom blinds. Birdsong fills my ears. I blink once, just to check it’s all real. I always have every morning since Lanshiang. I look down at Chris, cradled in my arms, and smile. It’s real.

He’s in deep sleep, NREM stage 3 or 4 I expect. Every part of him is relaxed. His breathing, blood pressure, even that renowned body temperature, all lowered. And he’s got his right thumb in his mouth, like a baby. I wonder if he knows he does that? Probably not. I’ve certainly never told him. It’s such a precious thing to me, a little secret. A part of him that no one else knows, only me. If I did tell him he wouldn’t believe me, or worse, he might stop doing it. I don’t want that. Him sucking his thumb in his sleep tells me he’s Ok. Like a rainbow at the end of a rainstorm, it’s a sign, a good one. It says the bad times won’t last for ever. Like the dawn’s golden light at the end of the tunnel, or refracted into the spectrum. The rainbow was already a symbol in our lives together. Now, with the lockdown, it’s gained another meaning. Along with the flag in the yard, there’s a rainbow in every window.

Which isn’t to say the past few weeks have been easy. Far from it, especially for Chris. My action-man has been less like a bear and more like a caged tiger at times. The hold-up incident in the supermarket, then the sneezing fit and our subsequent stay for testing in hospital. Negative, thank God. Just Chris being … well, Chris I guess. He’s found it hard, organizing our SOU cohorts for embedding with the Army in Virginia. Selecting them, equipping them, seeing them off. It’s brought back a lot of memories. Things he used to do once and now can’t. Responsibilities he’d rather not shoulder. Not that he’s shirked them. Far from it. He’s probably dealt with my father better than I have. I have trouble balancing my position as Director NAB with being General Nivan’s first born. Chris just shrugs those massive shoulders of his and says what he thinks. But his heart is always with his beloved SOU’s. That’s what qualifies him for the job. A goal oriented completer-finisher. For which read, bloody-minded, stubborn, bullheaded. Or should that be bearheaded? Or Tigerheaded? Heh, heh! Whatever you are, don’t ever change Babe, promise me?

I take in his sleeping form. As usual, it’s the scars I notice first. That white one, on the inside of his right arm, from the Marhawa incident. The first time I’d seen him hurt like that. The ragged orange lines over his left shoulder from the Ogroman in Edonia City, the marks around his chest from Haos. Still red, even now, seven years later. They all have a story to tell. But the worst scars are the ones I know are there, but that no one else can see. The ones deep inside. Raccoon City, Wesker, Radames, Muller, even me, or at least my ‘disappearance’. Involuntarily, I shudder at the recollection and Chris’ body shivers in response. He’s going into REM sleep, and after that he’ll probably wake up. But I don’t want him to. Not yet anyway. I want him to rest. He needs it, he deserves it, and it’s my job to see that he gets it. I need to be the rainbow at the start of his day, not just the end. Just as he is in mine.

Inside my head, I suddenly hear my mother’s voice, and straight away, the words are there, like they’ve always been when they were needed. Another sign that things will get better. A lullaby. Softly, I start to sing the words. Ma’s … and mine.

 _“Rock-a-bye Redfield, on the tree top  
_ _When the wind blows the cradle will rock  
_ _When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall  
_ _But Piers will catch you, cradle and all._

 _Rock-a-bye Redfield, do not you fear  
_ _Never mind Babe, your Ace is near_  
 _Wee little fingers, brown eyes shut tight  
_ _Now sound asleep 'til morning’s first light.”_

I must have sung myself to sleep as well, repeating the verses, because the next thing I know, the wee little fingers are caressing my face and those brown eyes are staring intently into mine.

"Mwah!” he kisses me and smiles. “Good morning Ace. Good night’s sleep?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Perfect! I had such a lovely dream.”

“You did?”

“Mmm, not one of those weird vivid virus ones. It was about my Mom, singing me to sleep when I was young. I could hear her voice so clearly, even after I’d fallen asleep.”

I smile back. “That’s nice Babe. So you feel refreshed?”

“Yeah, sorta comforted, like there’ll be an end to all this shit.”

“The rainbow, after a storm?”

“Ha! See, I knew you’d understand! Mwah!” he kisses me again.

“What was that for?”

“You being here, for me. Um, I know I need you sometimes.”

“All the time!”

“Ha, ha! I guess.” he grins contritely. But there’s a hint of mischief in his face, and those brown eyes. It’s my signal to return the favor with interest.

“MWAH!”

“Wow Ace, what was that one for?”

“For another morning together. But mainly, for you being you.”

“Huh?”

“Just doin my job Babe, just doin my job …”


	8. "Your feet’s too big!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris has trouble with his ‘plates of meat’. And guess who Piers has trouble with!? Suffice to say they both end up sparring in the way that only true lovers can. Chris pushes all of his partner’s buttons, whilst Piers gives a master class in sarcastic sniping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, my feet did get flat during lockdown! I got blisters and red toes just like Chris. Lol. So the Fats Waller classic sprung immediately to mind. Of course, you know what ‘They’ say about big feet. You don’t? Google it!  
> My thanks to @theosymphany for the use of his OC character, Ozzie surfer Mick. ;P

“Uff!”

…

“Urgh!”

…

“Arghh!”

“Sigh.”

“Oww! Piers!”

“Now what?”

“Slow down!”

“Pardon?”

“Slow down dammit! Wait-up for me!”

“Pace too fast for you old man?”

“Oi! No! Yes. Stop … please?”

“I was just getting into my rhythm. And now we’re stopping. Again! What’s up with you today?”

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking nicely, not!”

“Something obviously isn’t. Well, come on, out with it!”

“They’ve shrunk.”

“What’s shrunk?”

“These.”

“Those?”

"Yes. My boots have shrunk.”

“Your boots have shrunk?”

“Jeez, listen to that echo! Yes, these boots, mine, belonging to me, have got smaller, reduced in size. In a word, shrunk … Capiche?”

“So they’ve shrunk?”

“At last! Yes, dammit! You did remember to feed them?”

“Of course, three square meals a day, not forgetting their vitamin supplement.”

“Oh, haw, haw! I mean when you cleaned them last, you fed them too?”

“Yes Chris, when _I_ cleaned them, and please note the personal pronouns here, _I_ also fed them, and _I_ proofed them too. _I_ used Granger’s finest beeswax.”

“You did?”

“Yes, _I_ did!”

“I mean, they’re my favorites, Italian leather, British made, supple, yet hard wearing. I never had to wear them in, just put them on first time and away we went. That’s why they’re my favorites.”

“Yes, you said.”

“You bought them for me.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Perhaps they’ll give you your money back?”

“Excuse me?”

“Now they’ve shrunk.”

“Chris, I bought them over two years ago. You wear them most weekends.”

“I know. I’ll be sorry to see them go. They’ve always been special to me, because they were from you. I’m truly sorry Piers. But now they’ve shrunk, well …”

“Chris!”

“Yes?”

“They haven’t shrunk …”

“Oh yes they have! I’ll show you … There, look! Is that, or is that not, a blister?”

“Yes, that’s blister.”

“And here, my little toe, see? It’s all red and angry.”

“I know how it feels.”

“Hey! Some sympathy wouldn’t go amiss here Ace.”

“Chris, your boots have not shrunk.”

“Yes they …”

“No! It’s your feet.”

“Huh? They haven’t shrunk!”

“No they haven’t.”

“So?”

“They’ve got bigger.”

“Bigger? Piers, I’m 47 now. Even I know your feet stop growing at 35.”

“Your feet got bigger when you bulked up for Wesker? Really?”

“Yeah really, sorta more muscly, like the rest of me.”

“By bigger, I meant broader, wider. Flatter, if you like.”

“I don’t like! Are you saying I’ve got heavier and my feet are squished flat?”

“No silly! We both might have gained a couple of pounds during lockdown, but that’s all.”

“So what’s causing it then?”

“It’s your lifestyle.”

“My lifestyle! What about yours?”

“Don’t blame me! Look, for the last, what, eight weeks? You’ve slopped around at home in loose slippers or, more often, in bare-feet.”

“Slopped?”

“Yes. I’ve been wearing sneakers, or deck shoes. You’ve been more, um, casual.”

“Well, excuse me Mr Lah-di-dah. It’s not like we were expecting visitors!”

“I’m not criticizing you. I’m just stating the facts … and drawing the obvious conclusion.”

“Oh! So my boots haven’t shrunk?”

“No.”

“And my feet aren’t squished?”

“No. Well, not by your weight anyway. But they’ve spread out, because you haven’t been wearing firm footwear, or indeed, any footwear, so they’ve changed shape. Like I said, they’ve flattened and broadened.”

“Uh-huh. So?”

“So that is why they’re now rubbing against the inside of your boots.”

“Ahh. You’re sure? I love these boots. Did I tell you they’re my favorites?”

“Yes, several times. Look, think about when we came back from Oz? Two weeks sand and surf …”

“Oh, and Mick!”

“Mick?”

“Cute surfer, buff, blond.”

“Yes, I know who Mick is!”

“He was part of the holiday. A big part … Stop sniggering!”

“Alright, two weeks sand, surf, _and_ Mick! But all you wore on holiday were flip-flops, remember?”

“Mick called them thongs. Ha!”

“Yes, he would. Listen, forget about Mick and his tho … things!”

“Why? Piers, are you jealous?”

“No!”

“Say it then. Say thongs.”

“No! What I’m trying to say is after we got back, you remarked it felt kinda funny wearing shoes again. Remember?”

“After wearing thongs?”

“Flip-flops!”

“Whatever! Yeah, I remember. Felt weird wearing anything to be honest. What did Mick call those little swimming briefs he gave us? Bungee Snugglers?”

“Budgie Smugglers!”

“They were like flip-flops”

“More like thongs!”

“Ha, there, you said it!”

“Arghh!”

“Why won’t you say that word?”

“Because.”

“Because what?”

“Because it conjures up images of you wearing your Budgie Smugglers so tight, they were virtually disappearing up your … well, you know where. And of Mick, taking in the view, and smirking.”

“Ha! So you _were_ jealous! I knew it!”

“You’re confusing jealousy with embarrassment, Bear.”

“Mick thought it was funny.”

“He would!”

“Jealous, jealous!”

“Well it makes a change! It’s usually you, on at me about poor Danny!”

“Mick’s a lot like Danny. Smaller, but still perfectly formed, tight abs, great deltoids …”

“Mick, Mick, Mick! Look, do you want me help you or not?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll lay off Danny.”

“And you can lay off me as well!”

“I’m sorry Ace.”

“Hmm, I hope so. Now, pass me your boots, Tenderfoot!”

“Here.”

“Good, they’ve got insoles. They can go for a start. Pee-ew! You know your pedal extremities really are obnoxious!”

“Huh?”

“It’s a line from a Fats Waller song …

"The old Jazz guy?”

“Wow, you’ve heard of him, I’m impressed Bear.”

“I do know some things Piers!”

“Well, he had a hit called 'Your feet’s too big’. Well, they are, and they smell too. Heh, heh!”

“Very funny! So, why take out the insoles?”

“It’s a twofold question of capacity Chris. First, we need to increase the capacity of your boots, and then we need reduce the volume of your big, smelly feet. Removing the insoles solves the first problem.”

“And the second?”

“We shrink your feet.”

“How? Diet?”

“No! Cold water! It help will reduce their size, temporarily at least. It might also get rid of the smell. C'mon, lets get your feet in the river and shrink them before I have to carry you home.”

“Pfft! That’ll be the day!”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Bigfoot. Now, put your socks back on first, they’ll protect your feet from chaffing at least, then your boots.”

“Alright Bossy.”

“How do they feel?”

“Better … thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Tell me about that song Ace, it’ll take my mind off my pain.”

“Mine too! It’s about a guy whose feet are too big, and so his partner grows to hate him.”

“You don’t hate me do you?”

“I try not to. Heh, heh.”

Grrr! Sing!“

"Let me see, I can’t remember it all. It goes something like this:

_Oh, your feet’s too big  
Don’t want ya 'cause your feet’s too big!  
Mad at ya 'cause your feet’s too big  
I hate ya 'cause your feet’s too big_

_Say, up on Harlem, at a table for two,  
_ _There were four of us, me, your big feet and you  
_ _From your ankles up, I say you sure are sweet,  
_ _From there on down, there’s just too much feet!_

_My goodness, gun the gunboats!_

_Oh, your pedal extremities are colossal  
_ _To me you look just like a fossil  
_ _You got me walkin’, talkin’ and squawkin’,  
_ _'Cause your feet’s too big, yeah.”_

“Ha, ha, ha! I liked the bit about gunboats. Not sure about the rest though. I can’t help it if I’m swole, it just comes naturally to me.”

“And not just your feet. You’re swollen headed too.”

“Hey! You can’t get enough of my big head.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I might have to put your head under water and shrink that too. And some other things.”

“Oi!”

“We’re both gonna get soaked now aren’t we?”

“You just read my mind!”

“It didn’t take long.”

“You’d better start running Nivans. Now!”


	9. We can be heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Sunday morning, June 28th, 2020, only a few days till July 1st. Chris and Piers are just emerging from lockdown. But Piers seems unusually vague and evasive. And Chris is definitely less than impressed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (9) was written as part of the #July1stNivanfieldDay event organised by @puppypiers on tumblr. There’s more good stuff under that hash tag.

“That was a good run Ace!”

“Wonderful! Our first time around the base perimeter in, what? Ten weeks?”

“Feels like ten years! Ha! I love running through our woods, but I sure as hell needed a change of scene.”

“See and be seen more like.”

“Huh?”

“We got to see a lot of people this morning, and they got to see us. That’s good. A sign of returning normality. The ‘new’ normality.”

“Ugh! I’m growing to hate that expression! There’s nothing normal about it! It’s upsetting. You know, I hardly recognized anyone out there today. Only when they called out. It’s only a little square of material, but no nose, no mouth, and bingo, no ID.”

“You should look at their eyes, not be drawn to the mask.”

“If I had your eyes perhaps Ace. I tend to go by shape, and color. You know, petite blonde, big red. And, er, buff latte of course.”

“Oh Chris! What am I gonna do with you?”

“How bout share a shower?”

“Sounds like a plan … and you’re good at plans.”

“Aww, I wanted to say that!”

“Ha!”

“Hey! Stop pinching my lines you!”

“Heh, heh. No mistaking Chris Redfield. Mask or no mask!”

“Swole brown?”

“No, more big lunk.”

“Oi! Just for that I get to lather you up first.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see …”

****************************

“… Wow Chris! Who’d have thought you could have so much fun with bubbles?”

“Ha! It’s all about surface tension apparently.”

“You got plenty of that.”

“Watch it! What did he say? Oh yeah, it was two things, working against each other …”

“So just like us then?”

“Hilarious! Oh, that was it, I remember now. They begin with H … hydro something … ah, got it! Hydroponic and hypochondria. There. Ha!”

“Ooh, big words Babe! And almost the right ones.”

“They were? See, I do know stuff.”

“I think you actually meant hydrophilic and hydrophobic. Attracted to, and repulsed by, water.”

“That’s what I said. Anywho, those big words work to make big bubbles. I asked Quint Cetcham all about it.”

“Heh, heh … Wait! You asked Quint!”

“Calm down Ace. I only asked about the bubbles. Not what we do with them.”

“You think he wouldn’t guess? You know what his mind is like.”

“Brilliant?”

“Sick!”

“Ha, ha, ha! You worry too much Mr Director. Now, did you buy a paper when we stopped out?”

“Um, yeah.”

“I’ve missed having a real paper to hold in my hands and read properly these last few weeks. I don’t get on with those electric ones.”

“Hmm, almost certainly.”

“Pardon?”

…

“Never mind. Where is it? I can’t see it.”

“It’s there.”

“Where there?”

“Somewhere there.”

“Grrr!”

…

“I like to read down, not across.”

“That would explain it.”

“Tch, I can’t find it anywhere. Are you sure you got one?”

…

“Piers, are you listening? Ah, here it is! You must be losing it Ace. It was still in your backpack.”

“Mmm, probably.”

“Gee, it feels heavy! There’s loads of supplements. Guess they’ve got a lot of news to catch up with. Think I’ll start with the color magazine … WHAT THE FU**!! Piers, have you seen this!”

“Er, seen what Babe?”

“THIS! This … Gah! Words fail me!”

“Big words?”

“Don’t play cute Nivans, or innocent. This headline, one big word. You must have seen it!”

“No. What word would that be?”

“Nivanfield.”

“Um, Nivanfield?”

“No, NIVANFIELD! In big letters. And under it, let me see … Jeez! Locked 'Down’, but not Out - Our BSAA Heroes celebrate July 1st.’ Their heroes, really? Then some more crap about it coming up for our 'special’ anniversary! Goddamnit! When will these nosy, blood-sucking leeches ever let up?”

“Er …”

“Did you know about this?”

“Um …”

“PIERS?”

“Ok, yes, a bit.”

“How much of a bit?”

“They said they were doing it. There was nothing classified in the draft copy, so …”

“You let them?”

“They’d have done it anyway Chris. Better to be on-side. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

“That’s not possible. You know how much I hate the press.”

“You’re the one who wanted to read the paper.”

“That’s different! But this … This is about us!”

“It’s not really about us. It’s more about who they _think_ we are.”

“Yeah? Well listen to this … Um, blah-blah-blah … 'will celebrate in their secret woodland love nest, codenamed _The Deuce of Hearts’_. How come it’s a secret if they know about it? It’s all lies Piers!”

“They say we’re heroes.”

“Mostly lies then. Surely there’s more deserving heroes to write about now? New heroes; the Doctors and nurses, the first-responders, the carers …”

“I agree.”

“And why July 1st?”

“That’s when, um, when I, you … Oh dear, I’m sorry Chris, I thought I was over this. I still can’t … aah!”

“Hey, hush now. Come here … that’s it. Don’t cry, it’s alright Ace. Stupid freaking newspapers!”

“Sniff. Thanks Babe. I didn’t want you to see it, and now I’m the one who’s blubbing.”

“Shh, it’s Ok, I got you. It’s the wrong day anyway. There was nothing to celebrate that day!”

“We killed Haos.”

_“You_ killed Haos. And they still don’t know the full story about that, thank God. Besides, if any day should be celebrated, it should be July 15th in my book.”

“The 15th?”

“Yes. That’s the day I found you.”

“I, I never knew. I lost all track of time for a while back then.”

“It was the evening, the last day of the our search in the China Sea. I’d finally opened and read your diary. You said you loved me. As I cried myself to sleep, I realized I loved you too. I don’t remember praying, but I must have. Because my prayers were answered that night … sniff.”

“Mine too … sniff.”

“Just look at us. A fine pair of heroes we make! Both sat on a sofa, weeping together. Ha, ha!”

“Do you think we’re heroes?”

“You are, to me. You’ll always be my hero.”

“I think heroes are meant to be more public.”

“Well, they can’t have you. You’re all mine!”

“But you are. Like this morning for instance. Everyone stops and says Hi Captain! They wanna chat to 'Chris Redfield’, and you always oblige. Me? I might as well not be there half the time.”

“You’re the steely, young Director. Youngest in the BSAA. They’re probably in awe of you.”

“No, you’re the awesome one. Finn was right first time.”

“Oh my dear sweet Piers, are you jealous? I don’t mean to …”

“What? No, of course not! But you’ve got the heroic image. Big, strong, ruggedly handsome. Piers Nivans? Well, not so much.”

“Bullshit! There would be no 'Field’ without 'Nivan’! I mean it Ace. I don’t know if I’d still be here if I hadn’t found you. I didn’t save you, you saved me, remember? And you’ve gone on saving me, every day we’ve been together. Be they anniversaries, or just plain, regular days. Saved me from being the dumb ass who gets his words wrong, from being pig-headed, reckless. Who makes me get up and face every new challenge because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Don’t do yourself down Chris! You’ve always been _my_ inspiration, don’t you realize?”

“I suppose. In which case, that means we’re good for each other. Yes?”

“Yes, that’s it exactly! We _are_ Nivanfield, whether we like it or not. It’s how everyone else sees us, it defines us.”

“Hmm, you’re right as usual Ace. If it ain’t broken …”

“I know … don’t fix it!”

“Grrr! You’re doing it again.”

“I’m only teasing. So Nivanfield it is, yes?”

“Alright. I’m still not happy with this anniversary thing though.”

“We’ve got our own anniversary Babe, it’ll be our secret.”

“Yeah! We can be heroes together, just for one day.”

“Everyday, Chris. Mwah.”

“I can do that. Get ready for the old abnormality … Mwaahh.”


	10. BRAAAP!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lockdown unexpectedly continues, and so does Chris’s search to find something to occupy his mind. This week it’s his appearance. Piers gets to the bottom of it, so to speak!

The sound reverberated around the kitchen like an M16 on auto.

Piers spilt his morning coffee.

Ruff whined, then raised his head and looked toward his tail, scenting. Satisfied he was not to blame for once, he wagged his tail lazily, and returned to his snoozing.

“At a'boy Ruff!” Chris bent down and scratched the dog between his ears. Piers muttered darkly under his breath.

Chris looked up innocently. “What?”

“Ruff knows it wasn’t him. And it certainly wasn’t me. Doesn’t leave much choice now, does it?”

“How’d you know it wasn’t you?”

“Chris! I was a sniper! We were trained … I don’t … it’s just … Gah!”

Chris sniffed the air tentatively. “It’s not that bad!”

“That was the ‘Gah’ of frustration, not of gut wrenching, stomach churning …”

“Ha! You made a funny! Stomach, gas, churning … Geddit? Ha, ha!”

“And you made a fart!”

“Better out than in.”

"Hmm, perhaps that’s a good idea. You can go outside, take Ruffy for a walk.”

“Arrff!”

“He’s already been out, so have I.”

“Then you can _both_ go out, _again_!”

“But … ”

“Out!”

“I’m doing it for you.”

“Farting?”

“No! My new diet. Lots of high-fiber foods, legumes and low carbs. Gotta stay in shape for my Ace.”

“Hmmm. There was nothing wrong with your shape to begin with.”

“Piers! I’m 47. It’s a difficult age.”

“It is?”

“Yes. I was in danger of becoming some 280 pound slob with graying hair and a big black topcoat. You know, one with really large lapels.”

“Large lapels?”

“Yeah, on account of the big thick neck.”

“What about the big thick head?”

“Gray hair, like I said … Oh! Haw, haw! Very funny!”

“Chris, you were, no, you ARE, in fine shape. There’s nothing wrong with you.

"You sure?”

“Yes, absolutely. You look great.”

“Really? Um, at my peak would you say?”

“Er, well, you are 47.”

“See? Even you think I’m past my best. Dammit!”

“No, what I mean is physically, and superficially, you were probably at your peak eleven years or so ago. But now you’ve matured, you’re much more rounded … ”

“I knew it, I _am_ fat!”

Piers rolled his eyes. “I _meant_ rounded emotionally. You’re a much better combination of strength and maturity than ever you were at 36. It’s very, um, sexy.”

“Oh? So you wanna … ?” Chris nodded upwards to their bedroom.

“Behave! Just go for a walk and get it out of your system.”

“The gas?”

“Well, that would be a bonus. No, this stupid idea that you’re no longer attractive to me, or to yourself. You’re fine.”

“But you know what happens to muscle as you age, it turns to fat. I’m not getting the exercise I used to before this damn lockdown started. I thought we were getting the 'new’ normal. But nothing seems to have changed. That’s why I’m changing my diet.”

“I’m not stopping you from exercising. Besides, we both still work-out in the garage.”

“I need more. Real outdoor exercise. Like we got on Alpha.”

“Get the winter firewood ready then. I like to see you with a chopper in your hand.”

“Perv! That won’t take long. I need something long-term. Now the SOU’s are embedded with the US Army, I’ve got time on my hands, barring any sudden ops.“

"Mmm, a 'Chris-type’ project then. Lots of hard, physical action, not much planning required, sorta wham, bam …”

“Oi! I am still here you know!”

“He, he! Sorry Babe. Let me think … Oh, I know! How about you clear some land for a vegetable garden? I’ve always wanted us to be more self-sufficient at the _Deuce_ _of_ _Hearts_.”

“It’s not very good soil round here Ace. Too sandy.”

“Then we make it better, put in fiber for water retention, feed it with compost, natural fertilizers.”

“See, that’s what I’m doing with my body!”

“Well there you go. Hopefully our soil won’t smell though.”

“I said I’m sorry!”

“No, you didn’t actually. Anyway, I think you should apologize to Ruff first. You did try and blame him.”

“Grrr! Alright, Tch. Oo’s a good boy then? Yes oo is. Daddy’s sorry. You wanna’ go walkies? Chase some bunny-wunnies?”

“Ar-woo!”

“Ha, he’s easily pleased.”

“Meaning?” Piers raised a carefully manicured eyebrow,

“Er, nothing Ace. You’re easy too … Um, to please, I mean, not that sort of easy, well, that sort as well … ”

“Chris! Stop right there! Use that spade to dig the garden, not just holes for yourself.”

“Eh?”

“It was a joke.”

“No, you’ve already had two, that’s the month’s quota used up. Remember, I do the funnies in this partnership.”

“Fart jokes a speciality?”

**BAAARP!**

“Get out!”

****************************

That evening: Chris sat down on the edge of the bed and started to undress.

“How’s Ruff?” Piers enquired.

“He’s settled down for the night.”

“Good. And you?”

“What do you mean?”

“All that stuff about exercise and diet this morning.”

“I wasn’t being vain Ace.”

“I never said you were.”

“I can tell, you thought it.”

“No. I just don’t think it’s necessary, not at the moment.”

“So you think it will be, in the future?”

“Perhaps. Neither of us is getting younger.”

“You never seem to age.”

“I injected myself to save your life, not to look young …”

“And you know I’m grateful.”

“… It was an unexpected side-effect. Part of the self-repairing nature of enhanced C.”

“Hmm. I just worry that one day you might look at older me and wonder whether it was all worth it.”

“Never! Don’t even think it! Listen. It’s about what’s inside that big thick head, not the big thick neck under it.”

“You sure?”

“Very. I’m not gonna trade you in for a younger model. You won’t get me out of your life that easily.”

“I don’t want to. You are my life Piers Nivans. You gave me a second chance.”

“We were both given a second chance Babe. That should tell us something, yes?”

“That we were meant for each other?”

“Exactly. Big head, thick neck, gray hair and all.”

“What about the black topcoat?”

“The one with the extra large lapels?”

“Yes.”

“No! It’s an absolute fashion disaster! For you, less is more.”

“Couldn’t get much less than right now …”

“Mwaaah! Don’t ever change Bear, Ok?”

“So that’s a Grrrr then?”

“Wooof! Um, there is just one thing though.”

“What? Name it!”

“Don’t fart! We’re not playing Dutch Ovens tonight! Some things are better left in than out.”

“Ha, ha, ha! That’s coming out of your next month’s gag quota!”


End file.
